We were the quintessential small-town all-American family
with loving parents; I was the oldest of five children. We
loved small-town parades, picnics, my mom’s deviled eggs,
and fireworks. Dad was an Eagle Boy Scout leader, and Mom
was a Brownie Troop leader. We were the joyful, happy, traditional
family on your Hallmark greeting cards; the kind of
family Normal Rockwell used as models for his American
Family paintings.

And suddenly one morning, without even the smallest
warning—just like in the movies when there’s a horrible,
screeching, ripping sound and everything freezes, and the
picture you see on the screen literally rips into two jagged
pieces—our wonderful, happy, secure life…just ended. Poof!
Completely, permanently, and forever gone!
I was 13 years old and fatherless.
When I was 19 I added being motherless.
My four younger siblings and I were orphans.